From the Ashes
by KaenXD
Summary: After that day, Ichigo knew he had to become stronger. Of course, he wouldn't be doing this alone...
1. Chapter 1

This is a short beginning chapter, but it's enough to see if anyone likes it. If you do like it, then review! If you don't, then review anyway! Constructive criticism is appreciated. Flaming is not.

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**From the Ashes – Chapter 1**

The breeze wafted past, carrying the sweet scent of freshly cut grass, and a taint of blood. A lone figure stood in the street, splattered with red.

It was late. How late? "**Too late."** He needed to get back home, back to comfort. Which way was home? "**That way."** He stumbled down the sidewalk, ignoring the light breeze playing over his ripped and blood-stained clothes. Whose blood? "**Yours, king."** Riatsu flickered in the distance, familiar, and getting closer. Friend or enemy? He was so confused, and so tired. "**Sleep, king. I'll take it from here."** Unable to protest, he lost conciousness, slumping into a wall, leaving a red trail as he slid onto the sidewalk and into the darkness.

"Nii-san? Oh no... what happened?! What happened to nii-san??"

"My poor son! Don't worry, father will fix you!!"

A mumbled voice.

Crying.

Concern?

"**Sleep, king."**

Sweet oblivion.

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Thank you for reading! The review button is below (just in case you're wondering).

Ichigo: "Review peoples! I didn't get all bloodied up just for your entertainment!"

Hichigo: **"Actually, ya kinda did, Ichi."** *Smirks evilly *

Ichigo: *Gives his Death Glower© *

Umm... so yeah. Review? *glances over at huge HichiIchi cat-fight *


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Unedited brain trainwreck, but goddamnit, this needed to be updated!

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A Chapter 2  
(In which things are screwy, and Ichigo gets a surprise.)

The morning was perfectly cliché. Ichigo awoke to the sound of birds chirping and pancakes frying downstairs. Light filtered through his dusty blinds, and he sat up slowly, letting sleep gently release her hold. Rocking back and forth to gain some momentum, he bounced off the bed, shuffled to the closet, and exchanged his pair of pajamas for some ratty jeans and old, yet entirely too comfortable, t-shirt. Oddly out of breath, he slumped against the wall for just a moment, then shambled on to the bathroom.

A white shadow rippled past the mirror, unnoticed by the oblivious shinigami. He was focusing on applying toothpaste to his toothbrush, but his hands were shaking.

Finally finished cleaning up, he shuffled out of his room, down the hallway, and made it halfway down the stairs before braking for air again.

A mysterious figure, eyes glinting, stepped from the shadows. Then lunged.

"IIIICHIGOOooooo..."

Ichigo raised a fist to stop his father face-first, but missed his aim entirely, taking a foot to the gut instead. It knocked the wind out of him (he was getting used to this breathless feeling), and the orange-head fell face-first down the stairs and into unconsciousness.

He heard concerned voices in the distance.

"What's going on? Why's he so bloody? WHY IS ICHIGO SO BLOODY?"

"All that... it's not all his, right?"

"Daddy, do something!"

"Oh god. Oh please god. Not this."

**Shhh... go back to sleep King. You can't wake up yet.**

He woke up at the bottom of the stairs, his family already seated at the table before him, enjoying endless piles of pancakes supplied by Yuzu. Karin smirked at him, deliberately pouring the last of the syrup onto her plate. He tried to get off the floor, to crawl to them, to ask for help, but everything hurt and he was blacking out...

The voices were back, louder this time.

"Somebody just DO SOMETHING."

"This is all just a joke! It's gotta be! April fools?"

"SHUT UP RENJI."

"Urahara, is there anything...?"

**No King. You have to stay asleep. Sleep.**

Slitting open his eyes, Ichigo saw his family in front of him, seated at the table, laughing at some stupid joke, digging into fluffy pancakes. He reached forward, desperately trying to get their attention, to get help... he needed help... and as the room warped sickeningly, he slipped back into blackness.

**NO! You can't wake up yet! Let me protect you, just this once, let me-**

Ichigo came to his senses in the cold white room of a hospital. Or what looked identical to a hospital, but might have been a nefarious trap by Aizen. You never knew. Pain came slowly, and expectedly, as one expects toothache in a candy shop.

He didn't expect the blinding stabs of torture, searing through his flesh like hot butter knives. That was definitely surprising. Ichigo watched detachedly as his limbs jerked against the pain playing along their nerves. Eventually a nurse came to administer some kind of relaxant with the unfeeling jab of a needle. It didn't do much for the pain.

**It was the best I could do King, since you kept fighting me the other way. It doesn't feel as bad as it could.**

_ Hollow..? Why is this happening? Did I lose... something?_

**Che. ****Yeah, ****you ****lost ****a ****fight, ****King. ****You ****lost ****a ****few ****liters ****of ****blood ****too, ****but ****I ****had ****enough ****for ****the ****both ****of ****us. ****You ****owe ****me****for ****that, by the way.**

_ No. I lost something else. What did I lose? ANSWER ME._

He limbs started jerking violently again, uselessly clumsy under the drugs' influence. Ichigo's lungs wheezed under the strain of movement, and his heart gave an erratic beat. Beyond any physical pain, the shinigami felt a deep gaping wound running through... not himself, but his essence? Not his reiatsu, nearly depleted as it was, but his being. Whatever had been lost, had been stolen, was an essential part of himself, something as essential and indelible as his hair color. And it had been stolen.

**Ahem. Not exactly stolen. Just not there anymore. It wasn't like we ever really needed it. We're better off now.**

_Stop __lying __through __your __ass. __I __need it __back. __So __badly. __WHAT __THE __HELL __DO __YOU __MEAN __NOT __STOLEN?_

**Finally caught that, huh? Not stolen. _Used_. To keep us alive. That's what it was for in the first place. That's why you got it!** **To protect!**

_What is 'it'? Oh._

Despite the heavy doses of every kind of anything that could stop him from moving, Ichigo flung himself out of bed like a graceful flounder, and flopped about on the floor. He managed to stand up with the help of the bedsheets, his IV stand, and these two things under him called legs. Forging through tiny bites of agony, Ichigo was already yanking back his sterile gown as two nurses rushed in with sedatives. Before succumbing to their white sterility and stabbing needles, he had a full second to stare down at his chest.

Neatly tucked between pectoral muscles, and completely hidden from those without spiritual energy, was a hole about an inch in diameter.

**It's not so bad being stuck with me, King.**

The fucking bastard had taken his shinigami powers.

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Meh, short chapter, but whatevs. Thanks to the recent story faves for making me realize I had once titled this story "From the Ashes." At first I thought the alerts were spam. OTL Any ideas for a sweeter title?

Can anyone guess who the dialogue from the worried onlookers is from? Those who do get sprayed with a meat hose! Hooray for meat hoses! xD


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